Since we lost John, this thought runs through my head. This and "why".
We were just beginning to learn who John was, who he was going to be.
I dream about him being an adult and what he would have looked like. I've actually had the same dream of him as an adult twice since he passed. I dream that there is a tall and broad shouldered man standing in front of me on what looks like a beach pier. He seems a little intimidating at first and when I ask him who he is and what he wants...he just smiles. The sweetest most breathtaking baby face smile. I know, as soon as he smiles, who he is. He is handsome and built like a tank. (Side note: I guess since John was always off the growth charts, and we assumed he was going to be a big boy...that plays into my dreams.) As soon as he smiles I feel his warmth and love rush over me, feel that rush now just talking about it. Then he embraces me. It feels like I stand there in his arms forever, but it is always short lived. He tells me "Hi Aunt Wizza." and then I wake up. That's all I get and it's not enough. I want the real John. I want to know who he will be when he grows up. I want to know what he would have looked like and felt like when hugging me as a gown man.
We don't get that. What we did get was precious and irreplaceable, but just not enough. It will never be enough.
I also have the repeat dream of he and I playing on the beach. There is no one around, not another soul. It's just me and him. The sand and the sea and a beautiful sunset. We play at the edge of the water, before the sun disappears I wake up. That's when waking up really is the hardest. You go from having him in your arms again, to nothing. No baby. He should be here. I should be holding him and loving on him.
He should be here.
There are even times I catch myself forgetting he has passed. On a couple of different occasions I've been pulling into my Mom's house (that's where he and Mommy live) and the thought runs across my mind..."I'm gonna run in and squeeze fat man, and head home"...
It's torture. Once again the weight of the world falls on your head and you remember, he's dead. You don't get to squeeze him ever again. Does that ever stop? That constant want for someone that isn't there.
There is a hole in my chest. It's about two foot and 30 pounds. I will never be able to fill it. There are times it turns into a black hole and it feels like it will consume me.
What hurts most is that this is how I feel, just his ever adoring Aunt...how it must be for Mommy?
Did you know he took his first couple of official steps just two days before he passed? He crawled all over and into everything. Papa has a drawer on the table beside his chair and if it was open, it was fair game. Papa actually drilled a hole in it, and placed a nail inside to keep fat stuff out! That little nail rests in John's hand now. Along with about a million other things he had to have so we could let him leave this world. We wanted him prepared. The faces the fellows at the funeral home made when I held up a 3 inch nail requesting to have it placed in his hand! Ha! I laugh now just thinking about it...hope you got a chuckle too!
We got to see some milestones and will NEVER witness others. We treasure what we did get. Like seeing his little ham self sitting on the floor smiling up at us after doing something devious!
When I started thinking about this blog one of the first things I thought about was what my last memory of John, prior to his injury, did I have???
The kids and I went to Mom's for a surprise two nights before he was hurt. She was having something and cornbread. All I remember is cornbread. John was tearing it up, not that he didn't tear everything else up, but he loved cornbread...and well everything but in this instance it was cornbread. I remember blowing him kisses from the other end of the table, and his big sweet smile returned with bread and all falling out. Making eyes at me from across the table. Once Mommy got him out of his high chair he crawled straight to me. I sat him on the table and we loved and played for a while. I had on a necklace that he loved. It had a bead that spun inside another bead. He would take his little fat finger and spin the bead. Then down he went and on to the next thing!
I left that necklace with him. I tried to put it on the day we went to make his funeral arrangements and it almost broke me. I took it off knowing he would need it more than me and made sure to give it to the director. I had that necklace on the day he was hurt. While we were at the hospital, I took it off. I remember thinking it felt so heavy on my neck. I swore it was giving me a headache.
This child left our world in style. He had on some fancy duds, western camo boots, and all he would need to keep him entertained. He had toys, marbles, flashlights, Santa, jewelry, and all the love any child could ask for.
All we have are empty hearts, and bent souls. And the memories of a beautiful child that truly changed our world.
My baby laughing at me with my insane hair do.
Posted by Angela Smith on Sunday, June 5, 2016